Control
by Serenadea
Summary: And Renji supposed that this, too, was inevitable.  oneshot


**Just a short little something, because I haven't updated in forever and this pair deserves all the love it can get. A little angst, and a little happiness. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine, yada yada.**

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It had occurred to him, once, that he was in control. Indisputably so.

Their _relationship_—though Renji was not fooled for a moment that that was what they shared, he just had no other words that weren't ugly—it was wholly within his control.

It was strange, so strange. Like a window that showed the world in inverted colors. Sure, he wasn't the submissive type, but Kuchiki Byakuya was no pushover, not a man to be toyed with. He was exactly like his Senbonzakura: a beautiful, untouchable, terrifying force of nature that never stopped, could not be dominated, _would not _be dominated.

And yet…he was in control.

If he didn't want anything to happen, then all he had to do was, well, nothing. He and his captain circled each other in a dance like the moon circling the earth, seeing but never touching. Just two men thrown together by fate, chance, luck. Byakuya had never initiated their moments together, and the lieutenant never deluded himself thinking that he ever would. He never sought him out the way that Renji sought for him, inevitably, no matter how many times he told himself to stop, just stop.

And of course, if he did want…something…it wasn't terribly hard to get. Not now that he knew how exactly to ask. A quiet and questioning glance, a lingering touch. Or when he wasn't up to playing the subtle games the older man so loved, a stolen kiss, a blatantly obvious question. _Any plans tonight, taichou? _The indelicate sound of it, even in his head, so brash and brazen, made him wince. And Byakuya would give him _that _look, the one that sent shivers straight to his core. Hours later, Renji would find himself tangled up in those long limbs and black hair and skin that was smooth and calloused by turn. Always wondering why and how and what they shared. _We could make plans then, taichou…together…_

Renji couldn't think of a time when the other man said _no. _Because he was the one in control.

How long had it been like this? Moments. Weeks. Years. Forever and an instant.

Far too long, yet not nearly long enough. Renji knew it would never be long enough, that he would always need Byakuya, always search for him, and it would always be, painfully, simply inevitable.

So perhaps his control was just an illusion. Because it only altered the physical aspect; regardless of whether they simply danced around each other or touched, he still needed it. Craved it, desired it, but above all, needed it. Like he needed air, needed water, needed sleep, he needed Kuchiki Byakuya. Desperately so. There was no choice involved for Renji. His Captain lived in his veins just as surely as blood.

"Abarai-fukataichou."

The red-haired lieutenant nearly dropped his brush, getting ink all over his hands in the process but at least saving the paperwork from his sudden clumsiness. With an unsteady gulp, he looked up at the man who had so silently and unexpectedly appeared in front of him.

"Y-yeah?" A sharp glance. He could hear the unspoken words, like a swift backhand. _Mind your manners, Abarai-fukataichou. They are becoming unseemly. _Here, outside the bedroom, where they circled and danced and fought, with each other or just side-by-side—just two men—this was Byakuya's realm, where he was in control."I mean, yes, Taichou?"

"These need to be taken to the first division." He placed a stack of reports on the corner of the desk, right next to the little Chappy plushie Rukia had bought him once and Renji hadn't had the heart to get rid of. But there the older man hesitated. A marginal frown appeared on his face.

"Abarai-fukataichou, your handwriting."

Renji braced himself for what would come next. Sometimes Byakuya would use a new adjective on him, but he had a few favorites, since he often had occasion to comment on his subordinate's clumsy writing skills. 'Abysmal' was one, 'aesthetically revolting' another. 'Unfit for parchment' and 'as far from legible as the sky is from the earth' were thrown about frequently as well.

"It is somewhat improved."

Renji gaped openly, too shocked to do anything else. The steel-eyed man gave him one of his rare not-smiles and suddenly Renji's heart ached and he licked his lips to answer.

_Any plans tonight, taichou?_

"I…I've been practicing," he managed to croak out.

Not completely true. But he had been watching how Byakuya wrote, how he made each letter with the utmost care and precision and focus, like nothing else in the world mattered but getting it done just right. Like nothing else would ever matter. Renji couldn't imitate it, but a little of that immovable patience and calm had become a part of him—and Renji supposed that this, too, was inevitable.

"Go wash your hands, Abarai." The dropped honorific made Renji flush a little. The Sixth Captain spun gracefully on his heel, as if he had not noticed the pleased embarrassment of his subordinate, and glided back to his desk. "I will not have you disgracing our division by wandering around looking unkempt."

He couldn't help the grin on his face.

"Sure thing, Taichou."

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**Review please? :]**

**~Serenadea~**


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